Homework Blues
by otonashiteru1801
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky, international figure skater and youngest ever Grand Prix gold medalist, has finally hit upon something he can't conquer: his math homework. With the tedious prospect of afterschool math tuition hanging over him and nobody around him quite inclined to be helpful, it's no wonder he's in a terrible mood.
1. An impossible mission

It was a beautiful day in St Petersburg. Clouds skimmed lazily across the summer sky. The city streets were dotted with busy people going about their lives. Nearly everybody was outdoors.

Everyone, that is, except for Yuri Plisetsky.

Yuri was indoors, not only because he generally hated being outdoors but also because he was in a bad mood. And when he was in a bad mood he preferred to stay well away from fresh air and happy people, and those feelings were thoroughly reciprocated. Since he was usually in some varying degree of a bad mood, Yuri spent more time indoors than out.

Yuri heartily wished he had something better to blame his current mood on, like JJ or Yakov or the two idiots he was sharing a flat with. Things like that could easily be abused until the bad mood was worked off, but he happened to be annoyed at something more inconvenient, which was his homework. Yuri had never been good at math, and for the life of him couldn't fathom why he had to be.

"This is ridiculous," he spat through gritted teeth for the forty-seventh time. "I am a world-renowned figure skater! The youngest ever Grand Prix gold medalist! What sense in any universe does it make to have me struggle through algebra!"

He considered flinging his pencil at something and throwing his fourteenth temper tantrum for the day, but right now he felt too spent to even do that. He sighed and wished fervently that his arch enemy, JJ Leroy, was even worse at math than he was.

Angry death metal shattered the silence. It was Yakov.

"YURI PLISETSKY! Why am I not seeing you at practice this morning!"

"Because I didn't come?"

"Don't be impertinent, young man! What possible reason could you have for not coming?"

Yuri sighed, frustrated. "Yakov, I can't. I've got homework to finish."

Yakov nearly told him to do something to the homework which he held back because he remembered he was talking to a fifteen-year-old. "Forget the homework! You don't care that much about school, surely? Get your sorry self down here to the ice rink!"

"Yakov, I can't!" shouted Yuri, blushing furiously because he had hoped not to tell this to anyone. "I suck at math, okay? And if I don't turn in perfect homework this time around, they said they'd keep me back after school for a month for extra tuition. So then I can't come for practice for a whole month. Happy?"

There was a noise on the other side which momentarily had Yuri worried that there had been a terrorist attack on St Petersburg. "A WHOLE MONTH! This is insane! I've never heard of such a thing in my life!"

"I know, right?" protested Yuri, delighted. "What an outrage! Taking valuable practice time off a national athlete-"

"Just how bad are you at math, Yuri?" Yakov cut him off. "Shelve that ego for a few hours and make sure you get that homework done! THAT'S AN ORDER FROM YOUR COACH!"

"Wait, what!" spluttered Yuri, but Yakov had hung up. Yuri stared at his phone in disbelief. _You too, Yakov? Don't screw with me, old man! I bet you were as bad at math as I am too, you old bastard!_

This was terrible. Nobody was on his side. Yakov would murder him if he had to miss practice for a week, let alone a whole month. And he still had absolutely no idea how to do his homework.

"This calls for emergency action," said Yuri aloud.

He stood up, books in hand, threw his leopard print hoodie over his shoulders and marched out of the flat with a purposeful stride. A few seconds later, he came back, left his ego on the shelf and exited again. Yuri Plisetsky had a job to do.


	2. At the rink

"Just my luck," thought Yuri, disgruntled.

By the time he got to the rink, the other skaters had broken up for lunch. The rink was completely vacant save for the makeup disaster sitting on the bleachers.

"Georgi, I need a favour," Yuri yelled across the rink. Georgi looked up from his phone. His eyeliner had spread to other parts of his face besides his eyes. _Not again_ , Yuri groaned internally.

"Got dumped again, eh?" enquired Yuri in what he thought was his sympathetic voice as he sat down next to his rinkmate. Georgi only glared at him slightly venomously. _I am actually becoming more sensitive,_ thought Yuri.

"I wouldn't call it getting dumped, Yura, let's just say Anya is temporarily reconsidering her life choices," huffed Georgi. "Added to the fact that she deleted all our pictures together, unfollowed me, blocked me and trashed me on her blog... but never mind. What do you want?"

"In other words, you got dumped," observed Yuri. "I don't know why you keep hooking up with that inflated airhead, but i suppose stupid people are chemically attracted to each other. Georgi, you've got to help me with my homework. And don't call me Yura."

"I don't know how you manage to call me stupid and then ask me to help you with your homework in the same breath, but whatever," grumbled Georgi, taking the book. _This is easier than I thought,_ Yuri thought triumphantly.

Georgi wasn't bad at math, but Yuri wished Anya had chosen a different day to dump him, because he was terribly distracted. He kept abandoning equations and going off on long-winded stories about the two of them which Yuri had already been forced to listen to twice before. He was even more emotional and frustrated than Yuri was and he even cried for ten straight minutes when they finally proved one equality. Yuri gave up in despair and began to do the sums himself, while Georgi went on.

"And then she kissed me, Yura, while we were standing there under the stars, the cool night breeze blowing in our hair and-"

"I've got it!" Yuri mentally punched the air. "Just a bit more and I can find x!"

"Find my ex?" exclaimed Georgi. "Yura, how on earth could you suggest such a thing? Do you think I am a stalker? Do you think I can't accept Anya's life choices? Do you honestly think I'll even be able to find her when she's deliberately avoiding me?"

"Yes, yes and I hope you won't!" snarled Yuri impatiently. "For the last time, Georgi, I don't give a shit about your stupid ex and if I were her, I'd have dumped you by this time too and- oh, come on!" he groaned, as Georgi got up and trounced away. "Nobody knows how to take a joke in this country any more!"

"He can't find x and he doesn't know y either," snickered a familiar voice behind Yuri as a pair of hands covered his eyes from behind. Yuri cursed. He was not in the mood for all this.

"Get off me, you old hag," he growled, wriggling free of Mila's grasp. "I'm busy."

"Busy doing what, hitting your head against a stone wall?" drawled Mila, plonking herself down into Georgi's vacated seat. "What's all this? Oh lookie here, the little bitty baby boy's got _homework_ to do!"

"Mila, my career depends on whether I finish this or not, so either help or go away!" wailed Yuri. "Preferably, go away."

"It's just math, don't be so melodramatic," yawned Mila. "I could do this stuff in my sleep."

"So do it then!"

"Nuh-uh. You gotta learn to do it by yourself."

"Don't bullshit, you haven't got a clue how to do it either," Yuri muttered mutinously. Mila didn't give up.

"I do know someone who'll be able to help you though."

Yuri looked up. "Who?"

"I heard he majored in math in college-"

"For Pete's sake, who?"

"Also, he'll probably be _really_ happy to help you out-"

"Mila, if you don't tell me who it is right now I swear by Yakov's non-existing hair that I'll-"

"Otabek."

"Excuse me?"

"Otabek," Mila said happily. "He's a maths guy. Plus, he'd totally _love_ to-"

"Don't be a shithead, Mila!" yelled Yuri, conscious of the fact that he was blushing to the roots of his hair. "How the hell am I supposed to ask a rival from another country whom I've met once in my life to do my homework for me! Talk sense, for once in your life!"

"Who cares if he lives in another country, what've you gotta do, send him a letter by pigeon?" retorted Mila. "Also, I don't think _rivals_ who've met each other _once in their lives_ yell _Davai!_ at each other every waking moment-"

"Oh god damn it, why is the entire planet making such a big deal out of this!" exploded Yuri. "What's the big issue if I say good luck to some guy who's taking part in a competition? We've got a pair of assholes kissing each other on live TV and all you idiots can think of to fantasize about is Otabek and me? Get a life, for crying out loud!"

Yuri picked up the book and stormed off as dramatically as he could, hoping against hope that Mila couldn't see the smoke he was sure was pouring from his ears. _What was with everyone today? Why is the whole world conspiring to piss me off?_ There was nothing else for it. Yuri would have to go home.


	3. Back home

Yuri managed to unlock the door with barely a click, open it without a single creak and slip inside without anybody noticing. So far, so good. Now to get to his room before the shitheads realized he existed...

"YURIO!"

"AAAAGH!" Yuri screamed as something long and lean and over-enthusiastic landed into him from behind. "Get the hell off me, Nikiforov! Oh lord and get that dumbass dog off me too," he added as yet another wet and furry thing collided into him.

"Hey Yurio, welcome home!" Katsuki Yuuri stuck his head around the wall and smiled at him. "Just in time for dinner! Why weren't you at practice today?"

"I was busy- oh, get OFF, Makkachin," growled Yuri. "I thought I could get some peace here to get my homework done, but it looks like-"

"Oh, you're still struggling with your math?" observed Yuuri. "Jeez, how bad are you at math, Yurio? Viktor, help him out. I've got three things on the stove."

"Oh, why not, that's not a bad idea!" Viktor winked at Yuri. "Worry no longer, Yurio. We'll get that math homework done and dusted in no time! I majored in math in college, you know!"

"You didn't _go_ to college, Vitya," came Yuuri's exasperated voice from the kitchen.

"Ignore him," said Viktor. Sitting down at the dining table, he pulled the math book toward him and began. "Okay, so here's how it goes. You start with this expression, and then-"

 _At least they don't seem to know that Otabek is good at math,_ thought Yurio, relieved. _Otherwise, they'd never leave me alone either. But what's actually surprising here on so many different levels is that of all people, Viktor is teaching me math-_

"-and then we do that-"

"Viktor, if you haven't got a clue how to do algebra, don't pretend you do!" snapped Yuuri, wiping the heart-shaped smile off his fiancé's face. He pushed Viktor aside and sat down. "Go watch the stove, Viktor. Yurio, I'm not going to explain this again, so watch me closely and do the rest of the sums on your own, got it?"

Yuri watched idly as Yuuri patiently wrote out the proof. _Otabek majored in math, huh? Smart guy. Or maybe I'm dumb. But then it's Otabek we're talking about, so maybe I'm not that bad. And wait, how does Mila know so much about him? She can't be talking to him, right?_

"...are you even listening?"

Yuuri got to his feet. "There, I wrote it down. I hope you can understand what I've written, because you sure as hell weren't listening and I sure as hell am not writing all that down again."

"I can figure it out for myself, Katsudon," yawned Yuri distractedly, and inhaled deeply. He opened his eyes. "Is something burning?"

Viktor popped his head into the dining room. "Yuuri, d'you mind coming in here for a bit?"

" _Vitya!_ " cried Yuuri exasperatedly, rushing into the kitchen. Yuri groaned aloud. It was the second time in three days. Yuri would have moved out and gone back to living with Yakov a long time ago had it not been for the fact that the latter was so annoying and did not allow other people to sleep in. He got up and slouched away towards his room, taking full advantage of his flatmates' distraction. A minute in peace. To think. That was all he wanted.

Alone in his room, Yuri scrolled through the contacts on his phone. No, he didn't have Otabek's number, and of course, he wasn't looking for it anyway. _Yuko._ There it was. There's a person whom he could talk to without getting pissed off for five minutes.

"Wait, where's that thing Katsudon wrote out for me?" Yuri rolled off his bed, annoyed, and made his way back to the dining room. He'd just get it and go back to his room and try and decipher it alone, and then-

"Where on earth is it?" mused Yuri aloud, turning over the tablecloth. He'd left it here just a few minutes ago! Yuuri and Viktor were still banging pots and pans together in the background. Makkachin came bounding over to Yuri and licked his ankles.

"Oh, stop that," sighed Yuri, pushing the poodle away. "Wait, what the actual-"

There were chewed-up bits of paper dangling from the fur around Makkachin's mouth.

"VIKTOR NIKIFOROV, YOUR FREAKING DOG JUST LITERALLY ATE MY HOMEWORK!"

"What- MAKKACHIN!" bellowed Viktor, charging into the living room. Growling in frustration, Yuri retreated into his room and slammed the door. Makkachin would be fine, he was always eating things he wasn't supposed to be eating! Yuri heartily wished Viktor would stop freaking out every time this happened and pay a bit more attention to the fate of whatever Makkachin ate instead.

No way in hell could he ask Katsudon to write out his homework again, though he probably would do it. Yuri only hesitated for a split second before calling Yuko.

She picked up on the second ring. Her pleasant, composed "Hello?" was music to Yuri's ears after a day of being shouted at.

"Hey, Yuko-san, it's me, Yuri."

"I know, Yurio-kun. How're you doing?"

Yuri sighed. He never had the heart to snap at Yuko for anything, even calling him Yurio. "I kinda, needed some help...with my math homework."

Yuko laughed loudly, making Yuri blush. "How adorable! It never occurred to me that even you have ordinary teenage boy problems like math homework."

Yuri found that sounding oddly refreshing. _Ordinary teenage boy problems._ "So, d'you think you could help me then?"

Yuko's voice grew serious. "I don't know, Yurio-kun, I was never really that great at math... Takeshi is worse, though, so I won't bother asking him. Yuuri isn't bad, though, and I've heard Otabek Altin is brilliant-"

"Yeah, I tried asking Katsudon but it didn't work," cut in Yuri loudly. _Just how many people wanted to throw him in together with Otabek, huh?_ "Never mind, Yuko, I'll figure it out somehow."

"No worries, Yurio-kun," said Yuko. "Just call whenever- oh lord, those three've gotten hold of Takeshi's phone again! I've told them it's off limits! I'll talk to you later, Yurio, take care, okay?"

"Mm, thanks," murmured Yuri, after she hung up. Talking to Yuko always helped clear his mind.

Yuri was exhausted, and his bed was soft and warm and comfortable. He glanced at the clock. It was seven thirty. Maybe an hour's nap and he could get back to his homework?

Yuri rolled over on to his stomach and shut his eyes. From the sounds of arguing and malfunctioning kitchen equipment that was emanating from beyond his bedroom door, he guessed that dinner wouldn't be ready for a while.


	4. That's what best friends are for, right?

Yuri's eyes shot open and he jerked awake, half an hour too early. What on earth was that that had awoken him? Was it that infernal vibrating noise, or some sixth sense of impending doom-

Yuri picked up his phone. _Three hundred and twenty six_ notifications.

"What in all hell-"

 **sukeota3sisters** tagged you in a picture.

 **yuriangels, phichitchu** and **269 others** liked a picture you were tagged in.

 **jjleroy, christophe-giacometti** and **52 others** have commented on a picture you were tagged in.

The picture was one of Yuko, sitting in an armchair by a window, silhouetted against a vivid sunset outside, talking on the phone. The caption read:

OMG! @plisetsky-yuri asking for help with his math homework! #ordinaryteenageboyproblems #math #sucks #adorable #domestic #fluff #kawaii

"DAMN THOSE PESKY LITTLE INTERFERING TRIPLETS!" roared Yuri, practically shaking with outrage and humiliation. Everybody in the skating community followed those kids for their sneaky insider views of popular skaters' lives! Why in heaven's name hadn't he thought of this before calling Yuko!

His rapidly squirming insides only grew worse when he saw the comments.

 **christophe-giacometti** what an adorable domestic scene! Yuko-san, what a cute little son you have :3

 **jjleroy** omg AHAHAHAHA i'm dying XD ground him if he doesn't do it right, momma!

 **milabb** who dis? anyone o* should be jealous of? ;)

 **phichitchu** @otabek-altin time to help out, buddy.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" Yuri's despair was way too big to be done justice to by any form of retaliation right now. _Why, why, why me!_ That stupid old hag and that freaky Thai fanboy, argh! He would have to put his career on hold indefinitely now until Otabek retired, because there was no way, absolutely no way in hell he could look him in the face now!

His phone rang and Yuri was so distracted in his desperation that he actually answered it.

"Hello?"

"...Yuri?"

"Who the heck is it this time?"

"It's Otabek."

Yuri stared at the wall. He could swear his insides had suddenly disappeared.

 _What do I do now????_ The silence was so long that Otabek cleared his throat uneasily. "I don't know if you remember me, but..."

"No wait, wait, of course I remember, what d'you think," blurted out Yuri. _No! Too eager! Play it cool, Yuri, play it cool!_ "Ah, that's great." Otabek actually sounded relieved. "So, um, I saw something on the internet about you needing help with your homework or something..."

"No, that's nothing," snapped Yuri, too quickly. _No! No! Too harsh!_ "Oh, okay." Was he imagining it or did Otabek sound disappointed? "Well, catch up with you later, then."

Yuri's nerves all jangled together like a bunch of electrical live wires. _Nononono wait wait stop stop don't hang up._ _Calm down, Yuri Plisetsky._ _For god's sake, breathe._ _You're going to be yourself, and ask your best friend for help with your homework._ "Actually, Otabek, d'you think you can help me with it? It's algebra, and I suck at it."

"Sure. Fire away."

Yuri sat up and flipped to the right page in his math book. "Okay, so we have to prove that x cubed plus four x squared...are you writing this down?"

 _Damn it, this is so easy,_ thought Yuri, ruefully. Otabek knew the answers to everything! Plus, he explained it so clearly and simply that Yuri had no trouble understanding at all. And he didn't go off on tangents, or ask stupid questions, or yell at him or pretend to be smart, he just...answered everything Yuri asked him.

So simple. So convenient. So straightforward. _What a blessing people like this are to this world,_ thought Yuri. _What a rare fount of absolute pure common sense._

"Thanks, man," he found himself saying. "I'd probably have to give up my career if it hadn't been for you. I owe you one."

Otabek probably shrugged. "That's what best friends are for, right?"

"Yeah, I know, right?" said Yuri, as breezily as he could, but inside, his heart was doing combination quadruple lutzes. _Otabek said it! Otabek, not me! Otabek considers me his. Best. Friend!_ "So, guess I'll catch you later, Yura."

"'Kay," said Yuri, still feeling lightheaded, ang hung up. It took him a while to realize that the other skater had called him Yura and it hadn't sounded annoying.

Later that evening, at dinner

"Someone's in a mighty good mood," commented Viktor curiously as the three of them tucked into the food.

"Who's that?" retorted Yuri, happily. "It isn't me! Pass the salt, Nikiforov. Your cooking sucks ass."


End file.
